The Boy Who Had Lived
by fairymargarita
Summary: The news of Harry's death spreads quickly throughout the wizarding world. A thoughtful look into the biggest tradegy to happen since the death of Lily alnd James.


**The Boy Who Had Lived**

"I'm not really sure how we're to go about this," Hermione, a stunningly dark haired woman of 18, choked back on her tears. Her bottom lip quivered, "I've never had to plan a funeral before, much less the funeral of my best friend."

Her boyfriend, Ron, the other best friend, nodded along to her words but he wasn't really listening. His body was rigid from the news, the shock of it. Sure, he knew death was a possibility but now that it had happened he realized he really wasn't prepared. He was angry, distraught, and hurt. His best mate was gone. Harry, really, was the one person he always thought was going to be around. He imagined Harry as his best man at his wedding, whenever that was going to happen. He pictured Harry settling down with his younger sister, Ginny. He had even amused himself with the thought of little red headed children with lighting bolt scars on their foreheads (in sheer imitation of their father, no doubt), running around the Burrow at Christmastime. When Remus came to Headquarters tonight, he was supposed to bring good news. He was supposed to be with Harry, side by side, retelling the tale of Voldemort's demise. Instead Remus came alone. Instead he retold the story of his best friend's death. Harry and Voldemort had killed each other; the war was over. The war wasn't supposed to end this way; Harry wasn't supposed to die.

Ron snapped his thoughts back to Hermione. He watched her as her usually bright eyes filled with tears, forming rivers down her delicate cheeks. Her pale face was now a burnt amber of sorrow. Ron reached his hand out to her and she took it, holding on for dear life. He leaned forward, allowing her head to rest comfortably against his chest. Hermione began to convulse with cries, muffling her screams into his sweater. Ron could barely stand to see her for he felt like doing the same thing. He never wanted to let go of her, she needed him and he needed her. He loved her.

It wasn't long before Hermione's cries swept her to sleep. Ron felt her body slow down into a calm breath. He felt his eyes sting hot, no doubt from holding back his sorrow. He cried silently as he held Hermione in his arms. He brought her to their bedroom upstairs, carefully laying her down beneath the covers so as not to wake her. Once he was satisfied he crept slowly in next to her, wrapping his lanky body around hers. He felt Hermione shift underneath his grip, moving more comfortably so her body locked in with his. Ron took a deep breath to stop his tears and eventually let sleep overwhelm him.

Meanwhile, downstairs in the kitchen Ginny Weasley prepared herself yet another drink.

"Are you going to make more for us too, Gin?" Fred Weasley asked quietly as he swirled what little was left in glass. To his left, his twin brother George was doing the same thing. Fred still couldn't believe what had transpired. Although he was older than Harry he had always aspired to be half the man he was. It was Harry's generosity that put him and George on the map as successful businessmen, fronting their joke shop with the money he had won in the Triwizard Tournament. Harry offered the fortune to the twins, insisting he didn't need it. Fred admired him.

Ginny poured the twins another cocktail, of what neither of them was sure. George sat dumbfounded, not knowing what to say. He looked over at his little sister, his little Ginny, and saw pain flash through her eyes. Ginny was to marry Harry someday, or at least they all thought. George studied Ginny, as if he were hoping words of comfort would somehow come to him. He noted how lifeless Ginny seemed, how dull her fire red hair now appeared and how swollen her face was from the tears. He had always imagined what the newspapers would say when it was announced that Fred and George Weasley's younger sister was to marry the infamous Harry Potter. He even had an idea for a product, Harry and Ginny dolls that danced passionately with each other. He would have never sold it in the stores without his and her permission, however, but he wanted to develop it all the same, as a gift. Now all he could think was that he'd now come up with a memoriam to Harry, instead. He'd make sure the wizarding world knew how great Harry was.

Ginny sat across from her brothers, holding her glass with both hands. Her head was spinning already from the many previous cocktails she had already consumed. She cradled her head in her hands, fighting off the urge to sleep that came with her sad intoxication. She was going to marry someday, she knew it and so did all their friends. Harry and Ginny dated for a brief while back in her fifth year. Before the year ended, however, he broke it off with her, fearing that she may be put in harms way if he continued a romantic relationship with her, and he had every right to be frightened, considering what had happened with the Chamber of Secrets in her first year. She protested the break-up and stood by his side every step of the way, save for tonight. Tonight she stayed at Headquarters, comforting a very pregnant Tonks. Her hormones were in overdrive and she insisted that she only wanted to see Ginny. Ginny accepted, for the information received said that a Death Eater was loose and needed to quickly be detained. Before he left, Harry had kissed Ginny goodnight and told her that he would see her in the morning. Ginny's head swam with memories and she noticed that her drink was nearly gone.

As Ginny poured herself yet another cocktail, a slightly injured Remus Lupin sat silently in the living quarters next to his pregnant wife. Her hair, which had previously been a shocking blue, was now as black as could be. Her natural pregnant glow faded to an utter dimness. She had only known Harry for a few years, but her husband had known him since he was just a spark in his mother's womb. Her heart wrenched with her own sorrow, but even more for Remus'. He had already lost all of his best friends, most recently Sirius Black, her cousin, but he had now lost the only person who kept James and Lily's spirit alive. He witnessed Harry die.

"Remus…" Tonks leaned into her husband's torso, bringing his hand to her stomach. "I love you."

Remus returned the affection while Molly and Arthur Weasley were in their bedroom, sobbing quietly in each other's arms. Molly felt like a surrogate mother to Harry, loving him as if he was her own. Arthur felt the same sort of endearment towards Harry as well, supporting him through good and bad. He felt as if he had lost his own son. Molly recalled the first time she had met Harry, when he was eleven. He was so small then, nothing compared to the man he had become. She never thought she could hurt as bad as she did now. She cringed at the thought of how she would feel if one of her own children had died, but knew that she would feel the same. The same emptiness and sorrow that now filled her heart also filled the heart of her husband. He remembered when he had to bring Harry to the Ministry of Magic for a hearing. This was during one of Harry's "bad times", when no one, save the Order and a small handful of people, supported Harry at all. He had felt so sorry for Harry then.

Outside the Order of the Phoenix Headquarters, news of Harry's death was reaching all the way to the Minister of Magic, Rufus Scrimgeour. He knew he had to break the news delicately to the public, for Harry had been something of a national hero – The-Boy-Who-Lived. He also couldn't ignore the relief that dwelled within him that the war was now over, despite Harry's death. He almost felt like celebrating even, for he wasn't particularly fond of Harry to begin with. He was never very helpful to the Ministry. He'd have to tell his relatives, he realized, the Muggles he lived with as a boy. He phoned his secretary to sent an owl immediately, with his greatest sympathies of course. The media, he decided, he should handle himself. He personally phoned the editor of the Daily Prophet, not the least surprised to hear that they had already been informed through a very intricate and complicated line of sources.

"Harry Potter is a hero to all," the Minister echoed in a loud and proud voice that no one seemed to realize was completely fake. "He shall be missed greatly by the Ministry and perhaps the entire wizarding world. He will forever be remembered – oh and there will of course be some sort of memoriam developed in honor of 'The Chosen One', which will be revealed at a later date." The Minister hung up the phone after a few more words about the demise of Voldemort and the end of the war. He was smugly satisfied with that last bit about Harry that he just pulled out of thin air. He knew that his popularity would be shot through the roof now.

At St. Mungo's, Neville Longbottom overheard a gaggle of nurses seriously discussing Harry's death (which was just confirmed by the Daily Prophet, who sent out the newspaper early with the news). He had just been visiting his parents along with his friend Luna Lovegood, a girl he had considered on occasion to be more than so. He was supposed to be at the Headquarters that night but he received an owl with good news about his mum and dad, that they seem to suddenly be recovering after what was his entire life, 18 years of madness brought upon them by the hands of Bellatrix Lestrange. Neville froze up with guilt, knowing that he would've been with Harry had he been where he was assigned to be before the owl came.

Luna felt it was a blessing that Neville had not been at Headquarters when the obviously faulty information about a single Death Eater needed to be detained arrived. How was one to know that the single Death Eater was not a Death Eater at all, but He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named? She knew Neville would've been asked to go along with Harry. She suddenly remembered Ginny and cried. How was it that her boyfriend was alive and well and hers, well, not. She felt her face as hot tears pooled near her cheekbones. She turned to Neville, who she noticed was crying now as well. She pushed herself on to him, holding on to him tight, never wanting to let him go. Neville grabbed her shoulders, setting his forehead against hers. He never loved her more than he did now, she didn't seem like "Looney Lovegood" anymore. Instead of air in her head he saw depth. He leaned in and kissed her passionately, floating into a sea of bliss.

At Hogwarts Ruebeus Hagrid didn't even finish reading the owl Minerva McGonagall sent concerning Harry's death. His big eyes instantly flooded with big, raindrop tears. He had been the one to collect Harry from his horrid relatives, who in light of the numerous owls being sent to their residence had shacked up in a dirty, old, sorry excuse of a summerhouse. He had been the one to tell Harry he was a wizard. He was the one who brought Harry to the train station so he could attend the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. He loved Harry with his whole heart. Hagrid looked to Fang, who certainly sensed that something was wrong. He whimpered uncontrollably at Hagrid, nuzzling his head against his owner.

Madame Maxime was silent, opening her mouth every so often but then shutting it, realizing she didn't really know what to say. She had known Hagrid for three years now, dating for two. She was at Beaxbatons at the time of Albus Dumbledore's death, only comforting Hagrid after the fact. She was never very good at consoling, and she knew that no matter how hard she'd try she'd probably make Hagrid even more upset, if that was even possible. She decided she would hold him, burying his head in her bosom, letting her calm breath ease the pain. Hagrid willingly accepted the gesture, holding onto her waist like it was the only thing left standing in the world.

Up in the castle Professor McGonagall was on her last letter, a letter to be sent to Mrs. Figg, a squib who was stationed on Privet Drive to look after Harry while he lived with the Dursleys. Her sallow face was pinched with sorrow. Yes, the war was over, but it came with a heavy price. First Sirius, then Albus and now Harry, a mere boy of 18. It had never seemed fair to her that Harry had to carry such a heavy burden. She was one of he few who knew what Professor Trelawney's prophecy contained as a whole. One could not survive while the other lived. Harry was much to proud to just forget what he had heard in the Department of Mysteries, he knew it was his destiny to fight Voldemort – a destiny created for him by Voldemort himself. She felt a teardrop form in the corner of her eye, a first in a very, very long time.

Soon the Dursleys received the owl that was sent to them by the Ministry. It was late and Vernon was very upset to be disturbed.

"Don't open it, Petunia!" he demanded the moment he saw his wife reach for the seal. "It can wait until morning, hm?"

"It's from _their_ government, Vernon," Petunia deadpanned, completely ignoring her husband's instructions. Petunia had to read it a few times to understand. Her nephew was dead, killed by that _thing _that had killed her sister 17 years ago. When Lily had died she didn't feel much sorrow, she hated her sister for surpassing her in everything possible. Lily was their parent's favorite and she never let her forget it. Petunia was surprised to feel sad about the news of Harry's death. He was only a boy after all, the same age as her son, Dudley.

"Well, what has that boy gotten himself into his time, eh? Gotten himself arrested I hope," Vernon proclaimed ferociously.

Petunia pursed her lips before replying, "Vernon, he's dead."

It had been hours since the news broke; the war was over and both Harry and Voldemort were dead. Death Eaters had been rounded up by the dozen, all betrayed by the Dementers who had once been their prized ally. The lucky ones were escorted to Azkaban, the others killed. All sorts were lining up to be interviewed for the Daily Prophet, all who had come in contact with Harry at one point or another wanting to share their memories.

Back at Headquarters, Hermione Granger began to stir underneath the warm comfort of Ron Weasley. She turned her head to his, brushing her lips softly against his.

"I love you, Hermione," Ron breathed softly to her. "We'll make it through this, I promise."

As Hermione lied comfortably in her lover's arm, she wondered to herself quietly just how everyone else in the wizarding world was feeling in this exact same moment, hoping that, like her, her or she would be able to find comfort in remembering the amazing person Harry had been.

Hermione cracked a smile, "I love you too."

A/N: This was written in its entirety on July 20th (in other words, I hadn't read DH yet). This story is complete with no plans for a sequel.

All characters belong to JK Rowling, but the story is mine.


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